Remembrance Day






     IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
     Between the crosses row on row,
     That mark our place; and in the sky
     The larks, still bravely singing, fly
     Scarce heard amid the guns below.

     We are the Dead. Short days ago
     We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
     Loved and were loved, and now we lie
     In Flanders fields.

     Take up our quarrel with the foe:
     To you from failing hands we throw
     The torch; be yours to hold it high.
     If ye break faith with us who die
     We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
     In Flanders fields. 

                                             By John McRae



The Green Fields of France


    "The sun's shining now on these green fields of France; 
     The warm summer breeze makes the red poppies dance. 
     The trenches have vanished long under the plow; 
     No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
     But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land
     The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
     To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.
     And a whole generation who were butchered and damned"

From "The Green Fields of France" by Eric Bogle

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Updated April 13, 2016



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